The Trials of Ha'laar
by Redsunrising15
Summary: When Silvermoon is first attacked by Scourge, Ha'laar's daughter is presumed dead. Ha'laar goes on an epic quest to exact his revenge upon the Lich responsible; a Lich named Kel'Thuzad.
1. Introduction

Introduction

**Redemption**

Ha'laar paused as he looked over the historic event that he was now witnessing. The room he was in was cylindrical, with dark red hues painted on the floor and walls. Streaks of a lighter red swirled outward like a whirlpool from the center of the room, every time they crossed; a beautiful golden flower was painted at the vertex. Warm sunlight fell through the scarlet silk roof, bathing the area in a cheerful red. A dark pit stood in the middle of the room, only the shadows of past glory remained in its depths. The room was completely devoid of furniture aside from a single throne-like chair, mounted on a balcony, sitting in the chair was Lor'themar, leader of the Sin'dorei. Ha'laar stood at the man's right, while Ha'laar's 9 year old daughter stood to _his _right. Behind him, a path led down to the scores of High Elves assembled below.

Six beings of light, known as the Naaru, surrounded the pit. Their bodies were constantly changing form from almost-human, to brilliant prisms of light. The leader of the Naaru, called A'dal, slowly advanced to the edge of the pit. He procured an ornate beaker from within his light-woven robes and held it over the side. The other Naaru reached out with their energies and summoned powers far beyond what Ha'laar could have ever imagined. They poured their Light into the beaker, until the vessel glowed so brightly that Ha'laar had to shield his eyes. A'dal raised his right arm, an appendage constantly changing shape from an arm to a prism, and whispered, "Rest in peace, brother." He removed the lid from the jar. Instantly the jar ceased to glow. Complete silence descended over the chamber while the elves held their breath. A burst of light exploded from inside the beaker, searing the air and eyes of the onlookers. It formed a whirling vortex directly over the pit, and then it …fell.

Ha'laar recalled the days when the pit had been filled with life and energy, the foundation of his race's power, now it lay dead and empty, a bitter memory of the Scourge. Yet, after this historic day, the elves would once again have their immortality.

Ha'laar's eyes attempted to focus back on the well in the center of the room. Although the room seemed darker, the pit itself seemed – alive. Shadows that had not been there before danced along the edges of the pit, as if something below was attempting to rise. A deafening roar suddenly sounded, making the onlookers jump. Ha'laar felt power course through his limbs, power he had not felt in a long time. Energy surged up from the pit, lighting up the entire room.

Cheers and cries of joy erupted from the assembled elves as the roaring power did not falter. The elves' source of magic had been renewed, and he saw many elves below laughing and crying tears of joy as magic, flames, and ice danced across their hands.

"Daddy," said Yerdua, "I feel – good."

Ha'laar smiled at her, she brought bittersweet memories of his wife, who had succumbed to her magic addiction shortly after the destruction of the Sunwell and joined the ranks of twisted elves known as Wretched. "I know sweetheart, I know, we never have to worry about not being able to defend ourselves again."

He turned back around and was startled to see A'dal floating just beyond the edge of the balcony he stood upon. The Naaru's "face" was stern, "That was your second chance, your redemption. Your foolishness and lust for power nearly destroyed your race once, and killed my brother, you will not be granted a third." Ha'laar nodded, painfully aware of the way he had first gained his light-driven powers. "However, I have one more gift for you," said A'dal, placing what Ha'laar took to be a hand on the Blood Elf's shoulder. Ha'laar's skin tingled as the Naaru channeled _something _into him. "You need not draw your power from his ashes any longer, and as long as you draw breath, you and your descendants shall fear no shadow."

Ha'laar nodded, "You are too kind, A'dal, we do not deserve what you have done for us, and we are forever in your debt."

A'dal's "body" shimmered and then faded away, as did the other Naaru. Ha'laar knew that they would journey back to the Outland, and attempt to restore order to the troubled world. But that was farthest from his mind as he gazed on the fountain of magic that now towered before him. The Sunwell had been restored.

~*~*~*~


	2. Five Years Later

Chapter 1

**Five Years Later**

Warm sunlight filtered in through the cream silk curtains and slowly lit the room. It was a small room, compared to most other elfish rooms. What the room lacked in size it made up in furniture; a large wooden desk occupied the area directly to the right of a queen-sized bed, and an intricately carved wooden dresser inhabited her south wall. Dozens of strange magic items littered around the room, giving off a soft humming sound. Hanging on the north wall was a framed painting of a female elf, she was beautiful and had bright straw-colored hair, but the thing that caught your attention about the painting most were her eyes; they were brown, and seemed so – sad.

There was a small creak as the door to the room opened, and a man's face appeared in the gap.

"Yerdua!"

No response.

"Yerdua!"

Yerdua groaned, rolled over, and threw a pillow in the direction of his voice. She heard him chuckle. "If only you aimed as well with your pillows as you do with your arcane." She smiled; he was always praising her for her accuracy on the channeling range. Being a mage was hard work, but having a history of 100% accuracy on your targets was even harder.

"You have about fifteen minutes before the Archmage arrives looking for you."

Yerdua started. "Fifteen minutes! You should've waked me up an hour ago!"

Her eyes opened and shot to the time-piece mounted on her dresser. Her father was telling the truth.

Ha'laar laughed, "Who said I didn't try to?"

She sat up and fake-punched him in the shoulder. "Well get out, I have to get dressed!"

~*~*~*~

Ha'laar watched Yerdua every day. From the top of the mage tower he had a perfect view of the training fields. He watched her unleash a blast of magic, striking the practice target and engulfing it in. The dummies reminded Ha'laar of scarecrows and each one was enchanted with wards that prevented them from being damaged by magical means. Yerdua's long raven hair sailed behind her in the wind. She wore the garb of High Elves, a full length bright red robe; the symbol of Silvermoon, a dragonhawk, was woven into the apparel with bronze and copper thread. Her dark brown eyes glittered as she turned to her instructor. He put aside a mental note to buy her that alchemy set that she'd been begging for. After a minute or so of speaking with him, she took a step back from the Archmage and began to walk towards the place where he always picked her up after her day of training was finished. He noticed not for the first time what a beautiful young lady she'd become. Ha'laar smiled inwardly as he saw three boys running up behind her. _She's been waiting for this, _he thought, _and I have front-row seating. _

~*~*~*~

Yerdua wrenched her arm free from the oldest boy, named Cer'rel. They had been causing trouble for her for a long time. She had spoken with her father about it, and he advised to wait until they needed it most to humiliate them. Despite the insults the boys now threw at her, she smiled.

~*~*~*~

Cer'rel could never distinctly remember what had happened that afternoon, all he could recall is he was bragging to Yerdua how all of their abilities were stronger, and that women shouldn't even be allowed to be mages. The next moment his friend who stood to his left was flash-frozen, the friend to his right was replaced by a sheep, and he himself was flying back 50 feet, where he crashed into a practice dummy. When he finally looked up, she was gone.

~*~*~*~

Yerdua gasped as Ha'laar handed her the alchemy set. The shock was replaced by joy and she threw her arms around him. "You shouldn't have!" she exclaimed.

"What, it's not like I can't afford it, I run the cathedral! Besides, it makes you happy, and I like you better when you're happy."

She grinned up at him. He was in his mid-thirties and took every chance he received to dote upon his daughter. He wore the traditional white tunic of the followers of the Light, with a golden sun embroided on his chest. In his right hand he held a metal stave, which he used whenever the Light failed him, which meant he had never seen hand-to-hand combat. He was clean-shaven and had dark hair like her own. His brown eyes never stayed in once place for very long, always glancing around, for in the days of his youth you never knew who you could trust. But those eyes were not used in vain, for out of the corner of his eye he spotted a Blood Elf running through the Court of the Sun and into Sunfury Spire, a strange feeling began to grow in the pit of his stomach.

~*~*~*~

The entrance to the room was covered in translucent blue fibers. The room was shaped not unlike the Sunwell chamber, but instead of a pit in the center of the room, a large stonewood table occupied the area. The table was covered with a map of Azeroth, engraved into the wood, and piled high with all sorts of legal documents. The room was guarded by nearly two dozen Blood Elves wielding royal weapons and armor. Sunfury Spire was usually a quiet place, shielded with wards against most attackers.

But it was not quiet as the Blood Elf scout ran into the governor's throne room.

"They – overwhelmed our – defenses," panted the runner. "We – couldn't – stop them."

Lord Lor'themar's hands gripped the sides of his throne until his knuckles turned white. "How long do we have?"

"I say – less than – fifteen minutes."

Lor'themar struck his fist down, "LIGHT! Why didn't we know of this attack sooner!"

"The Stoneskin – intercepted our – scouts."

Another elf ran in, "Sir, I think you should come see this."


	3. The Invasion

Chapter 2

**The Invasion**

The alarm bells of Silvermoon sounded, waking Yerdua and her father. They dashed out into the cobblestone streets, glancing around for any sign of danger. Scores of more elves dashed into the streets, most looking like they had just woken up. There were a few precious moments of silence before a woman screamed, "Look up!"

The spires of the Sin'dorei buildings could not block out the enormous necropolis the loomed above the city. Constructed from dragon bones and an unearthly metal known as saronite, it held thousands of Scourge inside it. Ropes descended from the floating pyramid as dozens of Stoneskin descended into Silvermoon. Nearly 8 feet tall, the Stoneskin bore heads of lions, the bodies of gigantic bats, and incredibly tough skin for which they were named.

Bursts of magic, flame, ice, lightning, and volleys of arrows soared up from the hysterical Blood Elves. Screams of panic and fear sounded through the streets as the Scourge sliding down the ropes reached the streets. They were immediately engaged by Silvermoon guardians, but they kept coming. Soon hundreds of unchecked Scourge littered the streets, pillaging and killing.

Ha'laar and his daughter fought side-by-side, she used her magic to strike down the enemy while he called upon the Light to heal his allies and smite the Scourge. Yet despite all the efforts of the Sin'dorei, their enemies continued to advance.

~*~*~*~

Ha'laar dodged an enormous war axe wielded by his twisted enemy. The next moment he unleashed a blast of Holy Fire, igniting the abomination. Several seconds later the creature fell to the floor, dead, the stench of rotting flesh and bone heavy in the air.

He felt a hand grip his shoulder. Whirling around, another hand grabbed his other shoulder before he could strike with his stave. Lord Loth'remar stood in front of him. "We have to fall back!" he yelled, attempting to make himself heard over the fighting. "There are too many of them!"

Ha'laar nodded and turned back to his daughter, "Yerdua we have to –"

She was gone.

Frantically his eyes darted around the warriors searching for any sign of his daughter. They caught on a group of the undead vermin, not 30 yards away, dragging Yerdua towards the necropolis. She was unconscious, and an ugly bruise covered her left temple. Not accepting the possibility that his mission was doomed, Ha'laar smote the ghoul in front of him, cutting it in half, and dashed after Yerdua.

Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head and he stumbled. Dazed he looked up to see a wickedly spiked club wielded by a skeleton dripping with his blood. As Ha'laar prepared himself for death, the skeleton was flash-frozen and shattered before his eyes.

His head throbbing he turned back in the direction of Yerdua. A soundless scream parted his mouth as a stray bolt of fire exploded directly above her captor's heads, bringing half a building down onto of them, and Yerdua.

~*~*~*~


	4. Light Casts a Shadow

Chapter 3

**Light Casts a Shadow**

Ha'laar watched in horror as nearly a thousand pounds of rubble collapsed on top of his daughter and her captors. Renewed strength surged through his tired limbs and he pushed his way through the flailing combatants as if they were not there. His eyes were focused on one thing, the spot where he had last seen Yerdua.

He arrived at the mountain of stone and blow back the rubble with a flash of Light. There, in between two deceased Scourge agents lay his daughter, disfigured horribly by the crushing weight. He cried out and dropped to one knee, pouring Light into her still frame. He hoped against fate that she could still be saved, but his efforts were futile; she was dead.

Tears streamed down his face and he rose once again to his feet. He placed his hand on the side of the building to steady himself, but it encountered no solid surface. Momentarily forgotten, Ha'laar raised his hand, staring at it, as its texture changed. He roared with pain as waves of energy engulfed his body causing his form to dissipate and reform so rapidly he felt as if he was no longer solid. Driven to his knees, he was forced to watch his skin melt away into pure shadow, _powerful_ shadow.

And then it was over.

But yet it was not Ha'laar that rose unsteadily to his feet, grinning maliciously at what he had become. His entire body had somehow melted into the darkness that he had fought so hard against for so many years, and yet, he wanted this, he wanted retribution, vengeance.

~*~*~*~

Ha'laar savored the moments of his enemy's coming destruction. Faint streaks of dusk painted the horizon, signaling that the night was almost over. He stood atop the tallest spire in Silvermoon City and below him the battle continued to rage. In front of him floated the monstrous necropolis that had brought the Scourge to the elves capitol. The necropolis was completely black, save for the pale-white texture of dragon bones which were woven into the vertexes of the pyramid. Ha'laar knew the fortress still held quite a large number of Scourge forces in it and he was not going to let what happened to Yerdua go unpunished.

He gathered as much energy as he could fathom into the palms of his hand, and hurtled it at the necropolis. The devastating blast impacted on the side of the structure, and all who were below it looked up to see. He garnered power from the farthest corners of his reach and energized his strike with renewed power, watching with satisfaction as shadow tore through the hull of the Scourge war bringer.

Unable to stay in the air, the ship began to plummet downwards into the northern forests of Eversong Woods. He smiled as he thought about walking among the wreckage searing the survivors with burning shadows.

Suddenly he dropped to one knee, clutching his head, "What are you –" he began, but was interrupted by his own voice.

"You know full well what I am, I am you, and… you are me?" the imposter laughed, "How fitting that one so weak as you could command such power, if only I, _you, _had known about your abilities, you could have had the power to save my – I'm sorry, _our, _daughter."

Ha'laar fought for control of his body, but his foe was far more powerful than himself. "I'm not going anywhere," the imposter cackled. "Not until ever last Scourge in Azeroth has been slain and their bones ground into –"

Ha'laar cried out, "Light, save me!" and then there was silence, blessed silence. Ha'laar held himself tightly and cried for his daughter, and then he slept.

~*~*~*~


	5. The Nightmare Within

Chapter 4

**The Nightmare Within**

The golden sun laid near its zenith in the sky by the time the sounds of fighting ceased. Smoke still emanated from the city's no longer burning structures. Ha'laar moved among the wounded elves, calling on the Light to heal their injuries. _We could not let them die and become like those monsters outside our gates, _thought Ha'laar. Most of the casualties suffered were not caused by the Scourge, but by accidents, as Yerdua's death had been. Once finished with his assigned list of patients Ha'laar walked slowly towards the Court of the Sun, where Yerdua had fallen. On his request her body had not been moved to the casualty beds.

_You could have saved her, _the voice in his head echoed.

"I don't need you telling me how to raise my own daughter." replied Ha'laar.

_No, I suppose not, you truly did a fine job until you let her die._

"Get out of my head!" Ha'laar summoned a shield around his mind, something, anything, to take away the voice that had been nagging him since Yerdua's death. Yet he could still feel a presence, something clawing at the back of his consciousness, trying to gain entrance.

He sat down heavily on a stone outcropping. His eyes, heavy from lack of sleep, found their way to Yerdua's body, her face bore a soft expression, even in death. Overcome with grief he laid his head down into his lap and slept.

~*~*~*~

_An enormous blue dragon stirred from his slumber, his nose twitching at an unfamiliar smell. A human stood in the entrance to his chamber, beside the human towered a crypt lord, the one named Anu'barrak. The great dragon rose to his feet and bellowed, "__You dare enter my lair? I am Sapphiron, ancient servant of Malygos the Spell-Weaver! Explain yourselves! "_

_The human's mouth formed malevolent grin, "Sorry we don't have time to chat, great wyrm. We've come to murder you and steal whatever artifacts you've been hoarding over the centuries." _

_Sapphiron snorted, blowing a surge of magic through his nostrils.__ "Honesty... how refreshing. None may challenge Sapphiron and live!" _

_The incredible battle flashed before Ha'laar's eyes, the human somehow overcoming the great dragon, and raising it again as a terrible frostwyrm. _

Then Ha'laar awoke. The sun was already rising for a new day. Glowing arcane lamps were suspended magically throughout the city, giving it a gentle blue glow.

The last whispers of a nameless voice echoed in his head.

_The wyrm was sent to the Black Citadel of Naxxaramas, where he stands guard to this day, your journey is doomed to failure, young one._

"What journey?" he asked aloud, looking around for the source of the voice.

He heard himself sigh in his thoughts, _You truly are a pathetic father, you should have kept better watch over her._

Ha'laar's eyes darted to the pile of rubble where he had last seen his daughter. _She was gone! _

~*~*~*~

"Where is she?" yelled Ha'laar, storming up in front of Lord Loth'remar. The elven lord seemed did not seem fazed.

"The casualty beds were raided sometime last night, all the dead were taken." Replied Loth'remar.

Ha'laar gasped, "But…"

"I'm glad you came to me Ha'laar, apparently the necropolis that you destroyed with such…" Loth'remar paused, as if searching for the word. "… Extravagant means was a distraction. The Black Citadel of Naxxaramas has been salvaged. Kel'thuzad attempted to distract us while he was transported to Northrend."

"But," Ha'laar sputtered, "Kel'thuzad was destroyed! I saw him slain myself!"

An angry look entered Loth'remar's eyes, "Thanks to our old friends the humans, Kel'Thuzad still lives. His phylactery was never received by the Argent Dawn."

His daughter momentarily forgotten, Ha'laar asked, "Then what do we do?"

Lord Loth'remar smiled grimly, "We give the Lich King what he wants, we pursue. Pack your bags, we're going to Northrend."


	6. To Northrend

Chapter 5

**To Northrend**

If there was one thing about himself that Ha'laar had never known, it was that he _loathed _flying. He sat in the belly of a crude, goblin-built airship, clutching the sides of the Horde zeppelin tighter every time the framework shuddered from turbulence. If he had been less terrified at the moment, he would have marveled at the incredible feat of engineering that he now flew upon. A small wooden ship was fitted into a metal frame, which grasped a separate cloth-covered metal frame. A steam powered engine was active in the stern of the vessel, which periodically blew hot air into the balloon, and cranked a rapidly spinning propeller. After one particularly long and elaborate series of bumps, Ha'laar leaned over the side, (something he regretted) and lost his lunch.

He was surrounded by a variety of Horde members in the belly of the vessel. The airship was traveling from the orc city of Orgrimar to Warsong Hold in Borean Tundra; "One of the most impressive Horde fortresses in Northrend!" Lord Loth'remar had described it. The zeppelin moved quickly through the air, and soon enough a towering black fortress came into view. Black steel had been smelted into almost a coliseum shape, with battlements and towers occupying the walls. It was built upon a single gigantic stone boulder, with a 30-foot drop to a canyon below. Twisting pathways were cut through the rock, and all the entrances were barricaded by steel and stone. Smoke and flame rose from its surroundings, and scores of strange insect-like creatures were pouring out of a mining shaft to the south. Hundreds of Scourge surrounded the fortress, laying siege to it. Despite Loth'remar's descriptions, the fortress hardly looked magnificent. They flew over the Scourge army unopposed and were soon docked on the fort's only zeppelin tower.

Glad to be off the airship, Ha'laar jumped off the side of the tall wooden platform. He reached out to his light-given powers to slow his fall and arrived at the base of the tower in seconds, his feet barely touching the ground.

Shortly before departure from Orgrimar, Ha'laar had exchanged his typical white robes for something a bit more suited for the freezing temperatures of Northrend. He wore knee-high leather boots, and was clothed in a dark grey robe. A wave of deep purple rippled down the front and back of his tabard, with a gold-threaded sash encircling his waist. Atop his shoulders were framed pads, made of the same purple color as his tabard. A soft white glow emanated from his armor. He had exchanged his golden staff for a titansteel pole arm, which lay strapped to his back. Though slender and strait, the material of his new weapon was bent and twisted like a fishhook. The steel forked into a "U" at the top, and a bright green gem floated in the center of the gap.

He was met at the bottom of the tower by an enormous orc, who clamped a hand on his shoulder and clapped him affectionately on the back. "Ha'laar, old friend!" he laughed; his voice deep and weary with age.

Ha'laar laughed, overjoyed to see his old acquaintance. "Gerlin, how good to see you again!" The aging orc had changed since the times when Ha'laar had last seen him, for they had both been far younger then. The orc was built heavily, his incredibly muscular arms showing the strength of a warrior. Despite the cold, the only armor he wore was a short-sleeved tan shirt and forest green pants. Graying facial hair sparsely populated his face pale-brown face. "How's your family? What brings you to the freezing, light-forsaken land of Northrend?"

Gerlin started and took a step back as if stung. Ha'laar saw pain in his brown eyes that matched his own. "My family is – no more," the orc began, making an effort to pronounce his words clearly. "The Scourge – took them all.…"

Ha'laar felt the now familiar presence of the imposter within him as his thoughts turned to his own daughter. His eyes locked onto his old companion's, and he placed a hand on Gerlin's shoulder. "We have both lost those we cared about, but it can be no coincidence that we have been brought back together against our mutual enemy."

Gerlin's eyes brightened, "And we shall make Kel'Thuzad wish he'd never laid eyes on our kingdoms!" Ha'laar nodded, the clawing presence fading. "I heard you've been assigned to the Mightstone Quarry task force, alongside me. Things should play out interestingly."

1


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